Lot In Life
by Audra Lachesis
Summary: Cooking, cleaning, and -- waiting for the men to get a clue? Ginny gets some insight on a witch's REAL lot in life. (R/R, please!)


Lot In Life

Audra Lachesis

spazzula@yahoo.com

A/N: I've got to stop listening to the radio – or music altogether. It propagates plot bunnies. This one: Dixie Chicks, 'You Can't Hurry Love'. Makes me want to dance, and is absolutely BEGGING to be written into this fic…

Don't own HP. Self-explanatory, I should think, but hey, if you need ME to tell you that…

***

Ginny suppressed a scream of frustration, and caught herself just as she pulled her arm back to fling the mixing spoon across the kitchen of the Burrow.

Accursed powdered sugar! It looked just like flour, and Ginny could not be expected to be able to tell the difference. Especially when it was in an unlabelled tin in the pantry. How was _she_ supposed to know it wasn't self-rising flour? Her culinary masterpiece was ruined, just ruined!

"There, now, Ginny, it's not the end of the world," Molly Weasley assured her daughter, as she deftly scooped the gooey remains of the half-baked cake out of the pan. Mrs. Weasley had caught Ginny's mistake halfway through baking, when she suspiciously noted that the cake wasn't rising the way it should. A tentative taste of Ginny's 'flour' had cleared things up – and the youngest Weasley was now perfectly prepared to start spitting fire.

"Mum! Why bother with this?" Ginny sulked, yanking the flowered apron over her head. "What's the point in learning how to cook the Muggle way, anyway?"

"You're not to use magic during the holiday," Molly reminded her sternly. "And I won't have you growing up without a shred of domestic knowledge. Heaven knows men these days can't – or _won't_ – learn to cook. No daughter of mine is going hungry just because I couldn't be bothered to teach her the basics!"

"But I'm a _horrible_ cook!" Ginny despaired. "I'll never learn this – why can't I just learn to cook the wizard way when I finish school?"

"Honestly, Ginny, a little work never killed anyone. You've got to learn it the long way before you start taking shortcuts – and that's all domestic magic is, young lady: shortcuts. Scouring spells, cleaning charms, all the little household spells you'll learn are nothing more than a witch's way of avoiding the dirty work."

"Mum, it's not exactly the Dark Ages here," Ginny replied, sounding a bit exasperated. "You  make it sound like all women should be confined to the home, cooking and cleaning and taking care of the menfolk!"

"Of course not, dear – but you don't see your brothers doing any of that, do you?" Molly pointed out. "They know perfectly well how to cast a sanitizing spell, and I can barely get them to wash their hands before dinner. They won't, Ginny – it's a woman's lot in life that you can't depend on a man to cook or clean. You've got to be prepared to do it yourself – until you find a man that you can train to do it _for_ you."

Ginny cracked a grin at that. Her father had been known to don a flowered apron on occasion. She really had to ask Mum how she'd managed that feat.

"I know you don't enjoy cooking, Ginny, but it's a useful skill to have," Molly continued. "But for your sake, I just hope you end up with a young man who's been cooking since he was a lad!"

That prompted a short bark of laughter from Ginny. Her mother's wry pronouncement had quite naturally set a vivid mental picture in Ginny's mind – of Harry Potter, oven mitts in hand, calmly turning the bacon.

Ginny sobered quickly and slumped into a chair. Harry Potter had _no right to be popping up in her thoughts like that. She was sixteen years old, almost an adult, and entirely too old to be mooning over her brother's best friend. The Chamber of Secrets was years ago, and Harry hadn't looked at her since. She would _not_ sit idly by while he continued to monopolize her thoughts and daydreams._

With a tragic sigh, Ginny buried her face in her arms, ruined cake forgotten. She felt her mother's hand briefly light on her hair, and raised her head disconsolately, propping her chin on one hand.

"Mum? How old were you when you met Dad?"

Molly looked surprised by the change in topic, but smiled nonetheless. "Oh – must've been my fifth year of school. I knew who he was before that, of course – we were in the same house, after all – but I never actually talked to him until then. Why the sudden curiosity?"

"Just wondering," Ginny muttered. "Ron's got Hermione already – Percy and Penny met at Hogwarts – Fred and Angelina were in the same class – I'm starting to think I'm a bit of a freak."

"Because you haven't found the love of your life yet? Nonsense," Molly chided her. Ginny felt no compunction to point out that she was fairly sure she _had found him, but he would have nothing to do with her. No point bringing Harry's name into this, after all._

"You're only sixteen, Ginny. Just because your father and I met at school doesn't require you to find your soul mate before you finish school. Heavens – none of those couples you just rattled off is even engaged, much less married. Things change, dear – there's no guarantee that those relationships will be permanent."

"You obviously haven't been around Ron and Hermione lately," Ginny said wryly. "Joined at the hip, those two. It drives me mad. If he weren't my brother… How can Harry stand it?"

She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth, and flushed. Maybe her mother wouldn't notice…

"I'm sure Harry understands. He seems to be a perceptive young man, after all." Molly fixed her daughter with a piercing look. "So that's it, is it? Worried about Harry?" Molly hid a smile. "Or rather – wondering if Harry can cook?"

"Mum!" Ginny yelped, her blush deepening. "Don't you start, too! Ron… and the twins…"

"Oh, dear, don't be so sensitive," Molly replied. "They're only teasing you because they love you. And because they love Harry – I don't think they'd bother with teasing if they didn't like him. Your brothers are a protective lot, you know."

"Doesn't much matter if they like him, does it?" Ginny growled. "I'm Ron's little sister – I've known Harry for six years, and I'm quite sure he would have done something by now if he were going to." She tried to sound calm and matter-of-fact, but her voice quavered slightly.

"Oh, six years isn't that long," Molly assured her. "You're still young, my dear – and so is Harry. Give it time."

"Mother – _six years_," Ginny repeated, looking put out. "The only time Harry as even _looked_ at me was over the business end of a possessed diary," she said bitterly. 

"Six years isn't that long," Molly insisted, shaking her head. "You're talking about a lifetime here, Ginny – what's six measly years? It'll come. If not Harry, then some other young man. You just have to wait. Don't limit your options – you're young yet, and someone may come along who makes Harry look like – well, like your brothers."

Ginny snorted. Not bloody likely.

"Yes, well – it could happen," Molly forged on, reading her daughter's expression quite accurately. "Don't hurry things, Ginny – just be patient."

"But – it's so hard!" Ginny said in a small voice. "Everyone's pairing off. They make it look so easy! It makes me feel like there's something wrong with me!"

"There's nothing wrong with you, Virginia Weasley," Molly said firmly. "You're choosy, and there's nothing wrong with that. As long as you don't get settled on an unrealistic ideal, there's no harm in being selective. _I was – and look at me. I married your father, the first man I ever kissed. If you've got your young heart set on Harry, you'll have to wait – he's got quite a bit on his mind right now, and small wonder he's got no room in his head for girls! Love's not easy, Ginny – never easy – but it's worth it. Give Harry a chance to make his own decisions, at his own pace. He'll appreciate it more than you know."_

Ginny's head dropped to the table once more, discouraged. Her mother was right, of course. And Harry – Harry was worth waiting for.

"Mum?" Ginny said in a soft voice, not bothering to raise her head.

"Yes, dear?"

"D'you think Harry _can_ cook?"

Molly Weasley laughed. "After living with those Dursleys? I don't doubt it, dear." She retrieved Ginny's apron and shook it out, offering it to her daughter. "Now then, let's try something a bit less complex, shall we? How about – toast?"

***

END


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